Opportunity
by The Storymaker
Summary: At 13, Katherine Danvers loses everything, only to discover a world that is richer than she could have imagined. Welcome to the Otherworld. Regret, sometimes it's all you have to lose.
1. Introduction: Welcome to the Pack

**_Western Russia, 2026_**

& I wake up.

It surprises me every time, but I do it. Deep breathes, in, out, in out. I'm alive. Let's focus on that. Focus on the air that flows through my nose, taking with it the smell of the man beside me- the musky smell of sweat, with an undertone of old blood not yet washed off. And, of course, werewolf.

So I focus on the fact that I woke up from my dream, alive and safe, and try desperately not to remember who didn't survive the dream. Or, more accurately, the nightmare. The memory.

**_Bear Valley, New York, 2020_**

"So. . . if you had to choose?"

"I'm not answering this," he says, casually switching his backpack from right to left shoulder, " cause I've said it before." Logan can be such a pain.

"But, you know, refresh me. You're opinion might have changed. This is important stuff." I choose to ignore the huff he sends my way, as we walk to the parking lot of our school. The heat radiates from every pore of my body, and Logan's. I inhale the sweet, almost earthy smell of sweat. I don't let any of this distract me from my mission. I'm nothing if not persistent. " Would you rather have lasagna or meatloaf? Cause-"

"-Wait. Who's cooking again?" Of course he asks me that. In our house, that makes all the difference.

"Player's choice." I reply, as we approach the convertible. Perfect for speed, especially in this summer scorcher. Before Logan can, I throw my bag in the back and jump up front, beside the man with the summer tan-already- and the curly blonde hair. Like my own.

"Hey," he drawls.

"Dad, did mom-" Logan is so rude, already off asking Dad questions before we even finish our conversation.

"Yeah, she got your call about swim practice. Damn inconvenient schedules if you ask me, but hey, it's a skill." The southern drawl smothers my grunt of annoyance as Logan finally hops into the back seat and we pull out of the parking lot, heading out of town. As we drive past the trees, all prior conversation in forgotten. _This is heaven_, I think. _I know these trees, all of them. There is no place this perfect. _

The wind blows back my curls, pushes them from my school uniform, as the sun presses against my face. The leather seats are warm to the touch, but not too hot. If Jer wasn't expecting us home for the weekend meet, we would probably stop for ice cream. And when we were done, stop for more ice cream.

The ride continues, uninterrupted, as we pull up to Stone Haven. This fortress lies away from the round, surrounded by acres of grounds to walk- or _run_. _No where is as peaceful as this_, I think. I look at my father and brother, my whole world.

Logan, my twin, is everything every parent wants in a son. Intelligent, considerate, patient. His straight, golden hair is cropped short to his head, brightening his blue eyes even more. Dad has the same color, but the texture, that's all Elena. My mom. I have her color,silver blonde, but I wish my curls were the color of his. At thirteen, Logan was beginning to look more and more grown up. His build was nothing like my Dad's, of course it wasn't, but there was a softness missing from even just the last Pack Meet. He had grown taller too, but since I am with him practically every minute of every day, I have to really look to notice the minute changes. The swimming he does had added a bit of definition, as much as a thirteen year old can have, anyway. Logan was beginning to develop a swimmers build, the result of doing it since-according to my parents' 'cause I don't remember- that first Parents and Tots swim lesson. Looking at my brother, sitting casually in the back seat, head upturned to the sky, absorbing the sun, I can see a promise there. A promise of what he might look like when we are both fully changed werewolves.

Oh, did I not mention that?

Well, my parent's are werewolves. And Jer, he's my Dad's adopted father. My grandpa, I guess, but that would make him sound older than he looks. My uncle Nick and uncle Antonio are also fully changing, full grown werewolves. Antonio is Nicky's father, but they don't look much older than each other. Good genetics. Nick is my favorite.

We are all a part of the American werewolf Pack. There are others, other Packs, but I've never met any of them. Then there's Karl, Joey, and Lee that are also a part of the pack. They are all coming to Stone Haven this Friday- today- for the Meet. Then there are the Danvers'- my family.

Elena, my mother, is beautiful, tall, and powerful. Clayton, my father, is pretty much my world.

& Logan. Who is my world. He's my other half, always has been. Twins are that way, I guess. Well, at least we are.

"Hurry up, gotta get inside!" My Dad is already out of the car, yelling at us to hurry, and up by the front door. Logan grabs his bag and swings out of the convertible's side as I slip out in front of him. Our pace matches perfectly, as it always does.

The door swings open, and a forceful, yet feminine, arm reaches out and grabs my Dad by the collar of his black polo shirt to pull him in the house. Then, the same hand appears again. Then a face, my mother.

"Logan, Kate, you're even slower than your father!" She laughs, and my father grumbles something from inside. Logan looks at me, a crooked smile pulling at his lips, as I reach for his hand and we head in to start the Meet.


	2. Lessons

**_Bear Valley, New York, Summer of 2020_**

By that Sunday afternoon, it seemed like the Meet was flying by. Uncle Nick and my Dad were giving fighting pointers to Logan, playfully sparring together on the lawn. I was sprawled on the grass a few meters away, my knee-length summer tunic dress protecting my short legs in front, as my arms bent and supported my upper body. Yes, I said short legs. While Logan was gaining on my parents' height, I was remaining the same size I had last year. Height-wise, anyway. In other ways, I was maturing faster than I wanted.

I watched as Logan calmly matched my Uncle's body, move for move. It was like some sort of macabre dance, beautiful and ancient. I was so entranced by the scene that I hardly noticed my father walking away from them to mimic my position on the grass beside me.

"Hey, kid." _God, I loved that sound,_ I thought, _it means safety. Home._

"Hey." O.K, so it wasn't so much a 'hey', but a hh-grunt kind of thing. But he got the meaning.

"Why don't you go join Logan and Nick? Give them a lesson?" His eyes gleamed on the last, and I knew that look so well.

"Nah, don't want to embarrass-" His eyebrows raised at that, waiting for me to unleash some sort of female damsel comment. "-Uncle Nick."

His head flew back as he laughed, full throated and oh-so like Logan.

Uncle Nick's voiced his outrage at that comment, and Logan was able to get in a solid punch to his stomach.

"Yeah, sure you could, kid." That drawl was very out of place in Bear Valley. I never asked who his real parents were- it didn't matter anyway. Only the pack mattered to him, and to me, " You are getting good, though, damn good."

I beamed at that, probably the desired effect. "Well, somebody in this family has to be able to fight." I smiled a challenge at him.

"That so?" He jumped to his feet half a second before I could manage.

I was thankful I had thrown on some black leggings underneath the dress, although it wouldn't have really mattered if anyone here saw my underwear. Nudity amongst the pack wasn't a big deal, except for me. Uncle Nick, Antonio, Jer, mom, dad, Logan, they had all seen me stumble recently naked from bed, heading to the bathroom or to get a drink of water. They saw me in diapers when I was a baby; there was never the potential for sexual thought on their pup.

The other members, that was another matter. I would never let Karl, Lee, or Joey see me naked now. At least, not as much as possible.

What I mentioned before? About maturing? Yeah, puberty has kicked in big time this year. Let's say that other than my height-which I fear will just be a gene from someone on my Dad's side- I look much older than my age. It's nothing that would draw your eye, make you think, ' That's not right! That girl looks much too old to be 13! There is something wolfy there!' Still, Jer says it's either more genes from my Dad's side, or my wolf genetics. Being a full blooded werewolf must mean that am bred to breed, so to speak. In a world where a lot of males die before they ever reach forty, I guess it's important to be able to having more pups as early as possible. The whole continuation of the species thing, I guess.

"Kate?" My Dad looked a question at me, wondering if I still wanted to start our own 'lesson'. I snapped out of my thoughts before he could get his bearings, and surprised him with a light smack on the back before prancing over to where Logan was.

"Oh, Logan, this is gonna be good." Nick led my twin off to the side, and I could _feel_ him behind me. Always watching my back. "I'm glad you kids came along, finally someone can give your Dad a run for his money. Hey, Kate!" He yelled playfully at me, " make sure to get in a good hit on him for me, I owe him from last night!"

And with that, the lesson began.


	3. Dropping Hints

"So, let me get this straight, There is a posse of man-eaters heading this way?" My mother stood up from the sofa in the study. "As in, heading towards Stonehaven?" Her outrage was clear even to me, sitting at the bend of the hall. Sure, my hiding spot only gave me a sliver of visual through the partly closed door, but I got full audio.

"Elena, we can't jump to conclusions-" Always the logical one, was Jeremy.

"-I'm jumping to conclusions!? Jer, these mutts have left a trail all the way from-"

"I know very well, Elena."

"So, what? You think that just because they haven't entered the state yet we should give them a free pass? And if they do come here? Should we just give them a map and say, ' Hey, here's the layout of Bear Valley, have fun. Just make sure to steer clear of the Doughnut Hole customers, they're full of cholesterol!?' "

"No, Elena," Still calm. Slightly patronizing? Or was that just me? ", of course not. We should end this as quickly as possible, as far away as possible. I'm merely attempting to dissuade you from panicking, and causing Clayton to panic as well." There was a shuffling sound, like Jeremy was putting down a glass of something. Probably something that's in the 'locked' cupboard. Yeah, good job guys. My super human strength couldn't possibly break into the liquor cabinet. Parents can be so cute.

"Fine. No we'll just…" O.K, I might have dosed off at this point. But it was late, okay? That's what you get for sneaking out of bed to listen to closed-door conversations about mutt hunts. The next thing I knew my mom was bent down beside me, rubbing my shoulder.

"Well, looks like we have company, Jer."

"I," _Yawn,_ "Didn't hear anything about mutts. I swear!" Oops.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savannah.

That was my punishment. The adults got to go off on an adventure, and I got babysat by the witch. O.K, Logan too, but he didn't see it as a punishment.

"So, do you guys have homework?" Her stupid black hair was hanging over one of her stupid bony shoulders. With a stupid look on her stupid face.

"Savannah, it's summer. We're actually on break." Logan normally isn't the one to start a conversation, but he doesn't trust me not to say something rude. Rude? Me? "We normally just roam around out-"

"-side, right. Right. Sorry, I just got out of this dimension where all of the Gripsha- Never mind. Spell caster stuff. Speaking of, I just learned this really cool spell I could show you. See, what it does it-"

"-You're right, spell caster stuff." I grabbed Logan's hand in mine and was already turning towards the back door with him in tow as I said, " It really isn't that interesting. If you need help, we're outside."

As the back door closed behind us, Logan spun me around. "That was rude." I told you so.

"But _so_, worth it. And don't give me that look. That one right there. You think it's funny too, you just don't want to admit it." I moved closer, making a silly face and moving my neck around. " Come one, how about we practice out back."

"And you give me a concussion again? Thanks, but no thanks." Logan starting leading me across the lawn, and towards the line of trees circling us. When we got to an acceptably high one, he released my hand and started to climb. He didn't turn around, just trusted that I would follow him up there. I always did.

When we were as high as we could get, while still sitting on a wide enough branch, he leaned back. Effortlessly, Logan balanced his entire body on the limb, save his right leg, which dangled off the edge. I scooted until my back was up against the trunk, and then rested my head against the rough bark.

"You weren't in bed last night." He broke the silence first.

"Nope." He opened one eye in question, staring at me for more. He knew if I wasn't asleep beside him, stealing the covers and generally being a nuisance, I was on a mission. " I was minding my own business, _don't laugh_, I was. And then I happened to overhear Mom and Jeremy in the study." That got his attention. For me to abandon my pantry raid, he knew I must have heard something juicy.

Most people would peck at it, bother me until I gave it up. Logan knew better. Logan just lay out, waiting until I came up with the words to tell him.

"There are mutts killing people, close to New York State. I didn't hear much, but Mom's worried." I fussed with my position, moving away from the truck and closer to him. I only continued when my side was against his left foot, with both my feet dangling over the edge towards the house. " I think that's where everyone is right now. Finishing it."

"Sounds like."

And that was the end of that conversation.

Finally, Uncle Nick came to reprieve Savannah of her 'care taking' duties. Thank God. I never understood why they trusted a witch to take care of werewolves. I guess that sounds kind of supernatural racist- but I don't mean it to be.

It's only that, as full bloods, Logan and I have stronger instincts than anyone else. Stronger muscles, too. That means that although I can accept Jaime as a part of the family, because she's with Jeremy, I cannot accept Savannah, or any of the other rag tag supernaturals my parents associate with. Logan feels the same way, he's just to polite.

I have to be loud enough for the both of us, then.


	4. Higher: Raising the Stakes

Bear Valley, New York, January, 2021

I pushed my body against the cliff face, sweat dripping down my back. One wrong move, and it was all over.

"Come on, just grab that rock!" Logan reached to me from the top, pushing me upwards. I tried to do like he asked, and wrap my right hand on a protruding rock that lay a few feet about me. _I can do this_. I stretch out my body, cursing my short arm span for the hundredth time. Finally my fingers graze the edge, both of us holding our breath, and I-

"_Ugh_" I grunt as my hand slips from the rock, I fall downwards, and force my harness to catch my full weight. Climbing walls are _not _my choice of afternoon fun before school starts next week.

After losing the race to Logan, him having ringed that idiotic bell that sounded every time someone makes it to the top, we decided to grab some pizza at the attached food court.

"So," I said as we set out plates down on one of the plastic cafeteria tables, " are you ready to start the new high school next week?"

"Don't remind me. It seems like winter break just started, and we already have to go back. I mean, last week we were in New York with Uncle Nick, and next week. . . Don't get me wrong, I'm excited for different classes, more spares, and me and the guys might start playing some shows." Logan sings. Mostly he plays the guitar, and sometimes I grace him with the pleasure of my voice.

"Hmm," I take a lady like-read, gigantic- bite out of my cheese slice.

"What about you? I know you aren't too excited about this new private school. But it's gonna be better, I feel that." _Better than what? That hellhole we graduated eighth grade from?_ He worries about me; I hate it. Logan has always had an easier time fitting in. His personality isn't as . . . abrasive, as mine is. I don't care if I make friends, _honestly._ I don't have anything in common with the girls at school. And from the feel of my body, pretty soon we will have even less in common. I just hope I don't Change for the first time before Logan.

"Sure, sure. You know Mom promised me a laptop if I stay out of detention for the first month."

"Did you set up a condolence prize?"

"Ha-ha."

"Maybe you could try out all those moves you learned from training this summer. You know, if you want to start a cat fight in the girls locker room." _Laughing at me now, are we? _

"Laugh it up, wolf boy."

"Oh, I'm serious. What if a girl steals your cherry flavored lip gloss then gets all up in your grill?" I throw a piece of cheese at him, staining his new shirt.

"I'm just glad Mom and Dad are letting us go to the same school. I know I had to switch, with the problems I was having, but you... It was pretty touch and go there for a while." Jeremy had thought that the reason I wasn't interacting with humans could be that I never _had_ to. As long as Logan was around, I never felt the need to talk to girls-or boys- outside of the classroom.

"Yeah, I think he was hoping you might make some of those, dare I say it, friends?"

"Yeah. And what? Invite them to a slumber party at Stonehaven? Take them out for a late night walk, past the," I lowered my voice to a whisper," mutt graveyard?! Real realistic thinking."

"Hey, you could always send them back to my room," Logan joked.

"Yeah, right, Fabio." Just then my cell rang. Or, actually, the communal cell phone Logan and I took out when we went off for a bit of fun in town. I answered it with a "Yeah," on the first ring.

"Sweetheart? It's me."

"Hey," I answered as I mouthed 'mom' to Logan. To be fair, he could hear the conversation clearly on his own. Although his wolf hearing wasn't strong enough to hear across the room, it was good enough to hear the muffled phone.

"Logan's swim practice starts soon, remember, so I sent Dad to pick you up. Tell Logan I will pick him up later, when he's done. Did you two have fun climbing?" I could tell by her tone of the last, what she was really asking.

"No, Mom. No bodies on the floor yet. Though, if this pizza doesn't do the trick, I might have to start nibbling on Logan."

"Katherine."

"Elena."

"I'm hanging up now. I just wanted to make sure you were having fun, honest. Worrying about my kids is my job. Speaking of which," there was a crash on her end of the line, " it sounds like your Dad spilled something in the Garage. Gotta go. Love you."

"Love you." As I hung up the phone, Logan came back from dropping off our trays.

"Mom says Hi, and that Dad is picking me up so I don't have to hang around here for an extra hour and watch you embarrass the Danvers name." That earned me a grunt and a swift kick to the shins under the table.

"So… did Dad say anything to you?"

"About what?"

"The.." he looked around the cafeteria, "trip they took a few months back? Did he say whether it was…" another look, " successful"

"As far as I know."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"That's all? Nothing else? No specifics?"

"Specifics?"

"I don't know, he doesn't tell me this kind of stuff."

"Only 'cause you are a kid. Us grown ups talk about these kinds of things in private, so be don't offend your delicate sensibilities."

"I'm serious, Kate."

"So am I."

"Fine. I'm just glad you think it went well."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Because."

"My, aren't we being coy this afternoon."

"It's just that I read in the paper-"

"You read? My,my. That is a cause for concern."

"There was a murder. Another one. In New York. As in New York City. I think that's why we had to leave Uncle Nick's early. I think that's why Mom and Dad are chauffeuring us everywhere, while they have 'adult talks'."

"So, what you're saying is— "

"The phone calls, the worrying? I don't think it was a success at all. I think that they may have gotten one of them, sure, but I think there is at least one left."

"Well, be glad you have a big strong sister to watch out for you."

"You want to make jokes? Fine. I'm just saying."

"And I'm just saying they'll take care of it. Always do."

"I.." He stood up; I followed. "You're right. I know you're right."

We walked out of the cafeteria and closer to the front doors, where I could see the jeep parked out front. It stood out against the snow falling, it looked like it was going to blizzard. I gave him a quick wink as I tuned to leave, only turning around once to see him walk off in the direction of the pool.

"I am right. Dad'll take care of it." I whispered to him, too far away for Logan to hear.


	5. Lesson Learned

**DISCLAIMER: This is a mature chapter, dealing with adult situations. **

So Dad and I drove home from the rec center. It was a peaceful, uneventful drive.

The snow was falling all around us, each snowflake doing it's own dance. I'll always remember moments like that. The peace it brought to both of us.

My Father had everything he could possibly want, and so did I. Our family was together, healthy, happy. I loved my Father's lessons, and he loved teaching them to me. Logan, try as he might, just didn't like them in the same way I did. My mother used to say that I was a lot like my Father, and she didn't know what a compliment that was to me. And, as much as I adored everything he had to teach me, I equally adored just sitting in silence with him. Like that winter's drive.

Carefully, he pulled passed Stonehaven's gates, and that is when we heard it.

Wolf howls.

You're probably thinking that's no big deal, right? Wrong.

My Father could recognize instantly an intruder, and he recognized it then. Two of them. He swore heavily, and put the Jeep into high gear, speeding up the driveway faster then I had ever seen him drive.

Dad unbuckled his seat belt, turning to me. I'd never seen a look like that in his eyes.

"Go inside. NOW!" He jumped out of the jeep, running in the direction of the sound. "Call Antonio and Nick!" He called back over his shoulder, the snow obscuring his shape.

I don't remember getting out of the car. Or going into the house. I do remember walking into the kitchen, and the smell. Blood.

I can't describe it, exactly. If you've ever been in a room of a massacre, you know what I mean. It overwhelms. And for me? It was even worse.

"Mom! Mommy!" I yelled at her. Then I remembered her phone call.

The sound in the garage.

It couldn't have been Dad. The timing wasn't right. He couldn't have driving to get me, while being at the house five minutes earlier.

"MOM!" I ran out of the kitchen, and followed the scent. I opened the door leading to the garage. A lot of people would write a horror scene in the dark. Scarier that way, they say.

I say it's scarier in the light. When you can't hide from the truth.

My mother lay face down on the garage floor, the oil stains mixing with the blood to taint her hair.

I didn't check her pulse; there wasn't enough meat on her neck to check.

Maybe you think I should have fallen to the ground, started to sob. And maybe I would have, if I didn't remember my Father was outside. Outnumbered.

I had already lost my mother. But my father? Clayton?

I bolted from the room, and out of the house. It was so cold, so cold. I couldn't see his footprints; it was snowing too hard. I shut down, and let my instincts take over. I ran faster than I ever had, and probably ever will again.

I have never prayed in my entire life, as hard as I had then. I don't know whom exactly I was praying to, God, Allah, The Powers That Be. But I prayed.

I prayed my Father would win.

I prayed I would get there in time.

I prayed that Logan wouldn't come home, and see our visitors.

But more than anything, I prayed to wake up.

I want to tell you I got there in time.

I want to tell you that my presence didn't startle my father, that the sight of his daughter, running wildly through the snow, smelling of his wife's blood didn't distract him. It did.

Maybe If I hadn't been so… naive, thinking I could fight beside my Father, maybe if I had stayed away, he would have won. I just don't know. But all it takes is a second of distraction, and you are down for the count.

There were two fully grown, over six feet each, bulky werewolves standing over my father's prone body.

I remember his face, when he saw me running. The horror in his eyes. The fear.

I didn't know my father could look like that. He had always been so strong, so sure. Nothing scared my Father.

Except me- the thought of me going up against the men he was fighting.

That had scared him, I could smell it, and so could the mutts- the cowards who had used that distraction against us and delivered a final blow. He fell back into the snow, his chest rising and falling sporadically.

Then they turned to me, a sick smile on their faces.

I couldn't fight them off, when they came to me. They forced me to the ground, ripping off my clothes. I bit at them, scratched, hit, kicked. None of it worked. They were two adult werewolves, and no matter my training, no matter the extra strength my super-blood gave me. . .I was no match for them. Not then.

I knew what the wanted to do to me. What they were going to do. I don't know whether they knew how old I was. I don't know whether that mattered to them. They just looked at me like a piece of meat. A once in a lifetime chance. My mother was dead; I was the only female of their species they would ever get a chance to . . .

I never closed my eyes. I remember that.

I was so scared. So terrified by everything I had seen, everything that I was seeing at that moment. Fear. It is not the best emotion to have, when you are a maturing werewolf. My instincts kicked in, and just as one of them started to. . . start, I knew I was starting to Change.

My shoulder popped, fighting against both the weight of the man holding it down and the human body that it belonged to. My body started to Change, and they didn't stop. They didn't stop. Somewhere between my spine cracking, my bones breaking and re-knitting, I blacked out. Is that what they are calling it now? I was conscious. I know that. I just don't know how I got from there, to… well.

I'm not going into the details.

Partly, because it is too painful to explain. No, no, not painful .I. . . I don't have the words. I've never been able to fully explain how that moment in time changed me, so utterly and completely. It catches my breath.

It catches my breath, crushing my windpipe, I try to scream but—

I'm not going into the details.

Because it doesn't matter.

That girl, that girl that they . . . She didn't survive.

The girl Logan found sitting naked in the blood stained snow- she was just a body. The body of a girl, covered in her own blood, and the blood of the men she had just ripped apart. He cradled her in his arms, carried her back into the house. He turned on the hot water in the shower as high as it would go, and carried her in there. She couldn't stand on her own, so he held her up. The scalding water poured over them both, but it didn't slow the shivering; it just washed off the stain.

And still, she didn't speak a word.


	6. Waking Up

Bear Valley, New York, Spring 2024

"Katherine"

The cage was dirty, and that made it even worse than it regularly was. Jeremy had walked out yesterday, after one of our legendary screaming matches. He couldn't handle it. So, instead of having a freshly cleaned cage to sleep in, I was stuck in this shit whole. Literally. I had my last change just after Jeremy stormed off, and I had left vomit and feces on the floor. My sheets were ripped up, so I covered the mess with them. I could still smell it, that sickly smell of bile and the odor of excrement.

"Katherine."

I had passed out sometime after changing back to human, and I just fell asleep on the concrete floor. My hair was matted and covered with blood from the scratch on my left cheek. Next time Jeremy came down, he would leave water for me to sponge bathe my body. _Thanks ever so much_.

"Katherine."

I pawed at my ear, thinking I was hearing buzzing. I could swear I heard my name. Probably a hallucination. I had those often, a combination of insanity, the Changes, grief, and withdrawl. Yeah, withdrawal. It had three weeks, and I could still feel that sweet, sweet warmth of heroin as it traveled from my thigh, up my bloodstream, caressing as it- _STOP. Weak, so fucking weak. Wait, I'm not weak. It's not my fault I got addicted to that junk._ _If he hadn't shot me up in the first place, I would never have gone into that alley to talk to that piece of shit dealer._ _The drugs make me feel to warm, so warm inside. They make me forget. They help with the Change. _ Don't know what it's like for other werewolves, but my first Change really fucked me up. It left an imprint, one I just couldn't wash away. Guess that's what happens when you mix sex with the Change. It's a feeling I want to wash off, and the best way to do that is to be so strung out while it happens, I don't feel a thing.

"Katherine. Do you hear me?" Hallucination? I open my eyes, lifting my head from the cement. Outside the cage, sitting on the other side of the bars, is Jeremy. I can't help it, a growl slips from my lips. It doesn't even startle him anymore. He has scars all over his arms from me. That bastard.

"You can see me. Good. I-I'm sorry for leaving. For leaving you here." There is so much left unspoken. I'm a burden to him. A reminder of the son he lost. The son I killed. "I was childish. Forgive me. I have been thinking Katherine, that if you could calm down, we might move you to your room again." We had tried that. After…. After, I was catatonic. I didn't speak to anyone, I didn't listen. I stopped going to school. I stopped eating. Logan would take care of me, or Nick or Antonio. Not Jeremy. Jeremy was lost to us all.

Then my Changes started happening again. And they were violent, God, they were violent. I hurt people. Everyone tried to deal with me, but then I hurt someone. I hurt Jaime. Jeremy snapped out of it after then. And he snapped the lock on the cage. Naturally, I became more violent. I yelled. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU KEEP ME FROM LOGAN. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT. I WILL KILL YOU. I WILL KILL YOU TOO. I yelled and ripped off my clothes, threw things. I lost it. Just plain lost it. Whatever the fuck that means. After I cut up Jamie, I stopped having visitors often. At first, Nick would sit with me. We would talk, sometimes. I never yelled then. I wanted him near me so badly. Antonio would visit me too, whenever he could. Logan wasn't allowed to visit. It was Jeremy's punishment-that and the cage. Still, Logan would sneak down every night to sing to me, speak to me, hold my hand through the cage. Just having him there, helped. Logan went through his first change the same day I did. During one of my lucid periods, I heard Jeremy talking to Antonio about that day. They thought I couldn't hear them. I couldn't hear so much.

"So, he couldn't reach the house. The kid called and called, no answer. So he started walking. Then, as he told me, he felt the change. Only--" Antonio had said.

"Only what?"

"Only he said he remembered feeling sick to him stomach, and having really bad cramps."

"Cramps?"

"Yeah. So he called me, and I found him in the forest off the road. Changed."

"Was it the genetics, or his connection with Kate?" I think he wasn't so much asking his best friend, as asking himself. This was the part where I started to moan and shake, so their conversation was cut off.

"Katherine, did you hear what I just said?" Nope, Jeremy, I didn't. Don't' really care either. Sorry. "Katherine. Please. Focus." It had been years by then. I was sixteen. Years, in that cage most of the time. I had missed so much.

"Jeremy." My voice was groggy, harsh from lack of use.

"Katherine?" He stood up, sensing the understanding in my voice.

"Yeah." He sighed.

"I-I think we could try moving you to your room. That should make you feel better." _Feel better? Know what would make me feel better? One of your beautiful, beautiful needles filled with something strong._ Only I didn't say this out loud. "Would you like that? Getting out of here?"

"Yes."

- - - - - -

We were upstairs, in the room I had shared with Logan.

"Where is he?" Jeremy didn't need to ask who.

"I thought it best he spent some time with your Uncle Nick in New York, so as to not…" _Overwhelm? Excite? Come on, Jeremy. Astound me with your logic._ " So as to make this as easy a transition as possible."

"O.K" He looked up from what he was doing, from tidying and tucking in the covers of my bed. I guess he expected a fight. You could see it in his eyes, the years of trials and tribulations I had put him through. The hardships, the yelling, the bitter screaming. And the crying. Me, fighting him in every way I could.

"O.K? O.K." He seemed a bit more optimistic, and for a minute I forgot all the horrible things he had done to me. I forgot the shame of my filthy, disgusting body. I just remembered sitting on his lap when I was little, listening to him read to me. "I'll, I'll go get you something to drink." And it all came back to me. I smiled as best as I could, trying not to just bare my teeth, as he cautiously walked out from the room. He said 'drink', but what he meant was sedatives. He meant to dope me up, keep me calm. I didn't really mind that, at first. At first, it was nice. Kept me calm, docile. I didn't really care. And then it wasn't enough. It was never enough. I started to administer it myself, before the cage. I used to sneak into his medical cabinet, and stick that needle into the soft skin of my thigh, so he couldn't see the track marks. But he noticed, just the same. By that time, it was too late. I was a junkie.

I knew now that what he was getting downstairs making wouldn't help me. Him? It might help him. Make me passive. But I didn't want passive. I wanted to feel the fire, feel what life could have been. With that, I opened the window of my second story room, and jumped out.


	7. Adventure

_**Authors Note**__: Thanks everyone for sticking with the story! I know it's depressing right now,it gets better I promise, but in order for a person to fully live without fear, they have to be free of everything they leave behind. So, without further ado, here is chapter 7. _

By the time I got into the city, it was well past dark. I had changed in the forest, and ran as far as a Syracuse truck stop. With the shady light, and lack of proper fencing, I was able to jump on the tailgate of a truck heading towards New York.

Hours of driving later, and a run on my own, I was scampering into Manhattan. I knew Logan was staying with Uncle Nick in his apartment in the Upper West Side, so all I had to do was make it there. Right.

Luckily for me, I had managed to wander into Central Park, so I had a bit of forest to hide myself. But a wolf in New York? Wandering the streets? Not likely.

But I also had no clothes.

Or money.

So I had a choice, either stay a wolf and hope no one called the cops, or Change into a naked teenage girl, and hope no one called the cops. Before I could really ponder the answer, I picked up the scent of human. I took one deep breath in, my nose tingling from the City stink. Mixed in with the exhaust, rotting leaves left over from winter, and garbage, I could smell a human. Female, from what I could tell. I followed that scent down a small slope, careful as to not alert any of the gangbangers that roam the park at night to my presence. And there, on the bench below me, was a sleeping female.

So now I was up against an interesting predicament.

I needed clothes. This woman-who with a closer sniff was obviously a strung out junkie too wasted to go home- was wearing some.

Now, ask yourself, would you let those clothes go to waste?

And that is how, half an hour later, I was wearing ill-fitting track pants, a heavy cotton sweater that fell off my frame, and shoes a few sizes too small for my size nine feet. But hey, when life gives you lemons… you make a lemon suit.

So with this hobo-chic outfit I headed in the direction of Logan, and Uncle Nick.

I knew how to get there by heart, even though he had only leased this place a few years ago. It was one of the only places Jeremy let me visit, nowadays.

New York at night had always been amazing to me. And I'm not talking the tourist traps, like Times Square. No, just the city itself.

It was so segregated from the forests I loved, and yet it was so… so… _alive_. Everywhere I looked there was someone different, just hoping to belong. Yeah, I know, cheesy as hell. But true, just the same. On the street I was walking down, for example, there were pictures of uber-skinny models plastered onto bus stops, chunky older businessmen stepping outside from a restaurant for a smoke, a pair of lovers leaning against a brick wall leading to an alley. Now that I think of it, though, PDA _so isn't_ cute.

It figures, too, that the alley they were against was a shortcut Uncle Nick's building.

I kept walking, ignoring them as they got closer and closer on my left. Typically couple, I thought as a disgusting burst of bus smoke blew by my face, tossing my hair-and the surrounding scents- straight at me.

It hit me, pardon the cliché, like a ton of bricks. ( Not that I'd ever been hit with a ton of bricks, but one doesn't need to feel that to imagine fairly accurately that it would hurt like hell. ) Not my hair, that isn't what hit me, but the scents.

Werewolf.

That was no regular couple leaning against the alley-excuse me, falling into the alley now- that was a werewolf and his dinner. I couldn't see them now, as they were covered by the brick bend in the street, but I could smell him, if I concentrated on it.

I wasn't in shape for a fight. I was dehydrated, tired from all the running, and hadn't fought a mutt since the day of my parents' death. But I had killed those mutts, and I wasn't afraid. I had nothing left really, except Logan. And if this mutt was in the city, where he was staying, then Logan was in danger.

Besides, although I wasn't ready for a fight, I wanted one.

From the scent of him he was mature, clearly a born-wolf. As in, not bitten. Cocky bastard, too, if he showed up in Pack territory.

I guess the mutts just weren't as afraid of the Pack anymore. Or, at least, not all of the mutts were. I hoped to rectify that.

So, with the bravery and swagger only a ten werewolf fresh out of the cage can possess, I wandered into that alley.

"Hey," the girl mumbled, pressed up against the wall, the man's face at her collarbone, " Hey, stop, stop, Hey!" Then he bit down, and just before she screamed he pressed his hand against her mouth.

Why wasn't I stopping them? Wasn't really my job. Besides, it gave me a chance to size up my opponent. He was smallish, about 5 foot 6, with a stocky build. Not fat, but kind of square. And, obviously, he was none too bright if he let his food distract him from the scents around him. That was one of the first things I was taught by my . . .

So, when the blood started to drip down her collarbone and onto her-tacky-red motorcycle jacket, I figured I would take the opportunity to introduce myself.

"Careful," I said, "one day you might meet a girl that would bite you back." My mouth was half upturned, in as sinister looking smile as I could manage. He dropped the girl, and she crawled towards me.

Instead of speaking, he just looked at me, really confused. His dark designer suit- versace?- couldn't distract from the shock on his face when he finally breathed my scent in. We both ignored the girl, as he started speaking furiously in another language. German? Well, it sounded vaguely eastern European, but I had never taken language courses, so hell if I knew.

His fists balled, drawing my eyes lower. That's when the girl made a move to grab my hand and I, instead, grabbed her jaw and snapped her neck.

Now, before you go on about how sadistic I am, I had to do it. Being a werewolf is transferred through saliva, and she had just had a nice lick down by Mr. Not-So-Bright. I was being as kind as I could.

He took a step closer, narrowing his eyes, forgetting the girl whose body lay at my feet. Obviously, we weren't fast friends. This mutt didn't take it too well that I had just killed his evening plans. But, before we could start the dance that was hard-wired into my brain, something interrupted.

The door on the left side of the alley opened, sending pulsing music out towards me. A club, a door to a club or bar that was in the building. Probably some super exclusive place where rich men and women could slum it with younger, if not so rich, men and women.

Just what I needed, a man walked outside. Did he hear her scream? I glanced down for a second at her body, wondering what the hell this might look like. Me, dressed in homeless people clothes, with a body at my feet, and a man about to pounce.

I expected him to yell, shout, call 9-11. He did none of that. Why? Another breath told me. He was a werewolf. Two fully-grown mutts. Fuck my life.


	8. Opportunity

I know, I know. I probably should have had some big, all out, smack down. Right? Well, not when you are sixteen and pretty much homeless, and there are two-very large- werewolves that want a piece of you. Ten minutes before? I would have fought. I would have died, but I would have fought. Now? Well, lets just say that I was relying on a softer show of force.

"Come here often?" I quipped, as the first man leaned against the wall, and the second, newer, male advanced on the alley. The newer male was dressed in an, expensive, dress shirt with black dress pants. A little formal for a club, but hey, not like I had any experience in that arena. All that nice clothing was fitted very well on his six-foot frame, with his dark hair cut business short. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed he was just a Wall Street yuppie. But, I knew better.

"I would, if I knew there were pretty little things like you." He answered, in a thick accent. Russian? He sounded like the villains in 'James Bond' movies. He walked closer, but stopped a foot or two in front of the stocky man. Instead of advancing on the girl, our villain turned his head in a look of disgust. No, not on me. On the man beside him, and the blood on his lips.

The first man spoke rapidly in, what must be Russian, to the newer one. Obviously, they may not be friends but they were together. No, not together, together. Well, not unless it was like a sadistic relationship. Cause they were going at it, verbally at least. Fuck. Now was my chance; my chance to just slowly… back…away.

"Hey!" The man from the club shouted, as I backed away. I drew his attention from the bloody one, but it didn't seem as if he wanted to hurt me.

It never did.

"You don't want to do that." He smiled at me. When I didn't smile back, or even speak, his grin faltered a bit. Then he looked me over, the state of my clothes, and his grin lit up again. "You want to change clothes, yes? Change in city, no clothes around? Yes?" I guess it was a logical leap. Still…

"You following me?" It came out about as hostile as I thought it would. Good.

"No," he smoothed his hair back, a nervous gesture. Why was he nervous? "I am surprised. I had heard there was a female in America, but I never expected you to be so…" I raised my eyebrows, an obvious 'I'm waiting.' "Young."

"Yeah, well. I never expected to find to assholes chowing down in an alley but, hey, them's the breaks."

"No." the word had heat to it. "Just him. I was inside, enjoying American hospitality."

"Right. Well, I'm going to go and enjoy an American shower. You better be gone by the time I get back.

"Should I?" Was he amused?

"Damn straight." He laughed. Yeah, definitely amused.

"Before you go." I took a business card out of his pants pocket, throwing it to me. Cards don't really throw well, but I reached out in time. The card read simply:

Nikolas

41145-413-8731

"We aren't monsters. And we aren't afraid of you, you and your American pack. If you want a stronger family to tie yourself to, some of us are in town for a few days. We will stay out of trouble, I promise you." Somehow I believed him. But I don't trust anyone.

"Who are you?" I called, as the two men walked in the opposite direction, and opened the door to the club.

"Russian Pack." 'Nikolas' called back, without looking behind him.

Card in hand; I stepped over the long-forgotten body, and through the alley. Heading to Uncle Nick's and finally, Logan.


	9. 'I'm Here for you,' she said

If you ever reach a point in your life where nothing is bad, then I pity you. For things to seem bad, there has to be some good in your life. If nothing's bad, then, it just feels empty, because there's no happiness either.

Believe me; I've been there.

When I finally arrived at Uncle Nick's, it was pretty late in the evening. I didn't need a key to get in; the bellman recognized me as one of my Uncle's family members, and-as he had been advised to- let me in. The apartment building itself if really upscale, so his place was the only one on the floor.

Looking around his apartment, I had realized how distant I had become from my Pack. Pictures, dozens of pictures; I was in only a few, and those were ones from Before. By Before, I mean ones of me as a child, playing with my brother. Or, more merciless, pictures of me and my Father. So, yeah, Before.

I was able to find Logan's room by scent and habit, quickly showered, and then changed into a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. About half an hour later, Nick and Logan had arrived home, probably from dinner. Saying I surprised them was, well, an understatement.

I finally convinced Uncle Nick not to call Jeremy to pick me up (O.K, Logan convinced him) , but he did call to say I was O.K. And, thankfully, that I would be staying with Uncle Nick.

I loved my Uncle, so much, but our relationship had withered over the last few years. I couldn't blame him. He just didn't know what to do with me, or whether he had to do anything at all. I still loved him, but it was bittersweet. Every comment he made reminded me of my past, and of my mother, and of my father. So many memories, all of them painful in their own way.

-- ------------------------------------------------------------

As I lay next to Logan, with him stealing most of the covers might I add, I kept thinking of those men I had met. The werewolves. I probably should have told my Uncle, but I hadn't.

I should have told Logan, but I hadn't.

Why hadn't I?

Logan and I still talked about everything, our relationship was as close as ever. Closer, even, since he and I only had each other now. Sure, he had friends, girlfriends even, and he had his Pack….. His Pack. I noticed then that I had stopped calling them My Pack, and started referring them as if they were separate from me.

I was being offered an opportunity. I could see that. This 'Nikolas' was from the Russian Pack, or atleast he said so. I believed him. There aren't that many werewolves in the world, even less in the U.S, and I knew all of the mutts in the States. They had a Russian accent, and hadn't offered me any harm.

Don't think I was being naïve, or ignorant. I knew they might be lying. I knew from experience that accents could be faked, that lies can slip so easily off of your tongue. Still, I wanted to believe him. Believe that I had options.

Options other than wasting away, caged like the animal that I knew I could be. There is only so much pain someone can endure, until they just shut down. I could feel myself doing it. Friends that I had, family, memories, all of it was slipping away into nothingness.

I couldn't let that happen, not if I could stop it. The only way out I had previously seen was killing Jeremy- and that would be a slap in the face to my parents, and everyone I ever cared about. Still, I had thought about it.

I felt Logan shift in his sleep, rolling away from me. Away.

Now I had another option. I could leave.

For good.

I knew that meant leaving Uncle Nick- an idea that pained me. I knew that meant leaving Uncle 'Tonio, a notion that pained me no less.

The only question left, was could I leave Logan? I looked at his face, at the darkened profile to my right. Could I leave him? Did I dare?

Did I dare stay? I was ruining his life. I could see it, the fragility that escaped him, if only in sleep. He didn't have the strength to deal with the loss of our parents, while taking care of his junkie twin sister. How many times had I begged him for a shot? Of Anything? Too many. And how many times had he gotten me something? How many times did I watch as a single tear threatened to fall from his baby blues, as he handed it over? He didn't want to see me suffer through withdrawal, and that kind of decision isn't meant to be in the hands of a teenager. Not even a werewolf teenager.

So, that was it.

I could leave, even if it meant giving up everything that had ever belonged to me. Even if it meant giving up the only thing that ever truly did.

I could make that sacrifice, if I had to. If it meant saving him.

Maybe I would leave Stonehaven. Maybe I wouldn't.

I would call the number on the business card tomorrow, and let providence decide.

With that thought, I burrowed deeper into the quilt, and drifted off into the best sleep I had had in months.


	10. Preparing For

"So, you're saying that—"

"No! I never said—"

"Well, you implied that—" And then a crash.

No, it wasn't a fight. Well, ok, it was. But it wasn't a_ fight_, fight. A spat, I guess. A 'lovers quarrel'. My parents were infamous for them; there were hardly ever any times of peace at my house, at least growing up. There was always noise. Shouting, and yelling, and laughing. Always noices. Even now, I can close my eyes, and hear it. The games played outside, Logan being pushed down the stairs when he annoyed me, you know, wholesome stuff. My mothers laugh, when my father did something to amuse, or annoy. I used to love to sit and watch her, listen to her. I used to imagine that I would grow up and look just like her, act just like her. God, was I wrong.

"Вода?" I jerked awake, as the stewardess spoke to me. I just stared at her with a blank expression- and some drool drying on my cheek, I'm sure.

"Вода?" She repeated. Luckily, my white knight was there to step in and, ur, translate. It seems as if when you take a Russian flight, they actually expect you to speak the language. Weird, huh? I suppose, if it was a commercial plane they wouldn't have expected it; we were in the Pack's private plane. At least it was comfortable, extremely so.

Nik leaned over from the next seat-one of only a dozen or so- and spoke to the woman.

"She wants to know if you want some water. She can get you anything, though." He looked at my expression, and added, "She can get you something stronger." I shook my head. He didn't turn around though. The stewardess moved on, but Nik kept giving my face the third degree. I refused to look into his eyes, though, and eventually he faced away from me.

Nik had turned out not to be as horrible as I expected. Although, he kept looking at me like he expected me to break down or something. For the past four days he had been looking at me like that- ever since we met up.

It had taken me three days since that night, the night I decided I could leave, to actually call the phone number. From then, I had to wait another week until I could meet up and leave with them. I guess they had some documents they had to get ready, as I was still a minor and they _would_ be removing me illegally from the country. I guess that would take certain skills.

I met them at there hotel, carrying only my backpack. I had kept that backpack with me at all times, not even taking my eyes off of it when I was in the washroom, not even letting it go whiel I slept. Everything ,everything, from my past life was in that bag. There was no force in hell or heaven that could make me relinquish it from my personal possiession.

Inside, there were my treasures.

My first rabbit, the one that Jaime had gotten for me as a baby; it was bitten up now. A beautiful, platinum, heart shaped locket my Uncle nick had gotten me for my tenth birthday. Inside the locket there were two small pictures. On the left, there was a picture of my mother holding Logan and I. It was taken shortly after we were born and she looked, well, like a Goddess. Her hair was long and tangled, her face sweaty, but there was a triumph there. You could see the love in that face, a face that was glowing with pride and adoration. It was one of my favorite photos of her. On the right side of the locket there was a picture of my Uncle and Father as teenagers. It was taken in the summertime, with both of them leaning against come old car. When Uncle Nick gave me the locket, my Dad looked at the photo and explained it was his first car- a definite step down from the Porsche. Still, you could see the brotherhood in it, and it was obvious that they were happy then. Two precious memories from before I could remember, but that I could trust they did until the last.

There was also a small photo album, only a dozen pages or so. It had belonged to my mother. Jeremy had given it to me after her death, and I hadn't opened it. Ever. Still, I wanted the option, so I was taking it with me.

Logan's navy blue colored sweatshirt. I couldn't pack anything else of his without arousing suspicion, so the sweatshirt would have to do. Besides, as his twin I was kind of a keepsake to remind myself of him, anyway.

There were a few other odds and ends, but those were my favorites. Not much, I guess.

If someone asked you to fill a backpack of your life, what would go in?

How would you decide?

Then again, if you were abandoning everything you ever had, would you really want reminders? That was my thought process. I didn't want to much too remind me of what I was losing. I was more focused on what I would be gaining.

We were going to land in half an hour, and I would finally meet the rest of the pack. We were to land on their private runway, in the countryside by the estate. They lived outside of Aldan, a city in the Russian far east. I could alreadt get the feel that they had a lot of money to throw around – and, unlike my… Unlike Uncle Antonio and the rest, this was dirty money.

Some people compare the Cabel sorcerors to the mafia.

They aren't. From what my new 'best friend'( just call me 'Nik') Nikolas had been telling me, the Russian Pack was older than dirt, and was a mix of the mafia that erupted during the USSR days and the aristocrats of the Tsar days. Although, it was best not too ask too many questions.

There was one Pack leader, as I had assumed. His name was Viktor. He was 68, and in typical werewolf fashion was known for his brutal force. He had no sons.

His brother, whose name I was not told, did have boys. Four. One died shortly after they took him. (Yes, took.) The other three were alive. The eldest nephew, at 42, to the Alpha was called Yuri. He wasn't too bright, as Nik described him, and spent most of his time away from the estate. (AKA mutt hunting) The middle nephew, a decade younger, was Damien. Finally, the youngest was Sergei, at 28. He was supposed to be the burly enforcer, with a "heart of jewel" (Nik meant 'gold' I think).

Beyond the Alpha's nephews, there were few with power. Nik was Sergei's best friend, and that was how he scored the business/Pack trip to America.

"Nervous?" Nik asked as he sidled up to my seat, right after telling me we were preparing to land,

"No, not really."

"Fearless then, sweetheart? Good for you. I wouldn't want a little lamb in with the wolves."

"I'm more wolf than you are, _sweetheart_."

"That so? I guess we will see soon enough." Then, we moved in closer, to whisper against my ear. With five other werewolves- including the man from the alley- on the plane, he had to get that close for privacy.

"Come off strong, they will respect that. Viktor wants you there, you remember that. You remember that, and don't take shit from any _zhopa. _You may be fresh meat, but you aren't anybody's meat. You need help? You tell Viktor. He's scary guy, but he will look out for you, if you play it right. Got me?"

After that, I prepared to land.


	11. Coping

The lights pressed hard on my skin, although there were barely any- the music that was pulsating through the room drowned out any other signs of life. I never wanted to be anywhere like this- but, hey, I'd seen worse. I hadn't packed much money from Stonehaven, and I mentally abused myself for it as my heels stabbed at the floor, taking me further into the strip club. Oh, sorry, "Gentlemen's Club".

The man who owned the place was a friend of the Pack- of course he was- so he agreed to give me an interview, no questions asked. Oxymoronic? No. He basically wanted to make sure I had the goods to perform, but since I was underage and didn't speak a word of Russian, I didn't have many options.

I felt my skin crawl as the owner gave me a once over, and then a twice over. . . Normally I wouldn't take that shit. I was raised to believe that my greatest strengths were never how I looked, but how strong my right hook was. It was a whole different kind of "hook" now, I guess. No matter how degrading this was, it was nothing as compared to what it would be like having to take Viktor's money.

When I first arrived, I got a lot of stares. I was skinny, underweight, underfed, over-drugged. My hair didn't have a style, it was just a tangle of curls; not one wolf noticed. I never really understood what it would mean to them, to meet a female of their species. Apparently, after I was tucked into bed, there were a few drunken fights and arguments over who would get to "tuck me in" the next night.

In the club, I stared at the bar that took up much of the left wall. How could alcohol and a girl cause Pack members to hit each other? They were such a large Pack, I guess that the hierarchy ran too deep to allow for a strong sense of brotherhood.

"You dance?" The owner spoke English- another reason for the job.

"Sure," I stumble- a lie. I guess he picked up on it, because now he wants a 'demonstration'. I know what you must be thinking. But it's not like that. Although my physical prowess was never idolized, I was also taught that there was nothing shameful with my body. Everything about it was natural, and beautiful. So, without so much as a blush, I tap my heels up onto the podium in the private viewing room.

I close my eyes, feeling the music. Slowly, I shrug off the coat, and let the music take me somewhere else.

- - - -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Fuck!" I exhale, trying desperately to read the cooking instructions. I was standing by myself, with a burnt mess in front of me, covered in the flour that coated the massive kitchen.

I'd been in Russia for a week and a half, and the language barrier was starting to get to me. I couldn't even cook my friends a "thanks for watching out for my shit" dinner.

Nik was one of my closest friends in the Pack- he didn't seem too interested in me sexually, and wanted to honestly help me out. Viktor's youngest nephew, Sergei, was Nik's best friend and hence was mine as well. Nik spoke English fluently, and Sergei a little broken. But I could at least communicate. And neither of them grabbed at my ass.

As I stared impotently at the Russian cooking instructions for Nik's favourite meal, I pondered on my current predicament.

I needed this Pack to respect me. They didn't.

The few times a week I was with the Alpha, no one even dared a glance. When I was with Nik, people rarely hooted, and the first time a guy went to grab at me Nik broke his wrist in three places. I wanted to do it myself, but I'm still not sure where I am, power structure wise. If I was Nik's mate, I would be a high ranking female.

If there were more members of the American Pack, I also was high ranking as the Alpha's grand-daughter and Clay's daughter. Being Clay's daughter helped me here, for sure. Some people are afraid I'm as "crazy" as my Daddy. Fine with me.

Back to the problem. . . I need two things:

a)Learn Russian

b)Discover my position among the Pack

Seems simple. It's not.

As I was getting more and more confused, I hear a soft sigh as the wood floor groans. I abruptly look up from my disaster of cooking to see a man I've never seen before.

"Hello,"he says in greeting. His large (must be atleast 6"4) form is leaning against the doorframe. He is going for unobtrusive, the way his frame is folded in towards itself. His face also has many scars on it- not ugly, necessarily, but maybe to a human woman it would be. I nod towards him, and brush a flour-covered curl from my cheek. Before I can say anything impressive, he backs out of site and I hear his heavy footfalls down the hall.

"Katherine!" Sergei's voice booms. "Cooking?"

"Trying to" I sputter," Who was that was ahead of you?" Sergei's face scrunches, and then it looks as if he's understood me.

"My brother. Damien. I just picked him up from Baseia- Pack business." Hmm. I knew Pack business usually meant mutt killing. So that was the illusive Damien- Viktor's favourite nephew. Before I can think more, Sergei begins talking.

" Nik and I have to see someone. Tonight. You come?" I look at the mess I've made.

"Love to, but I can't read Russian to save my life, so I think going out wouldn't be too bright right now. But," I pull out two books," I'm learning!" Sergei's eyes go towards my "Russian for Dummies!" and "Putin not Poutine" books.

"I teach you." He says. "I teach you from now on, you learn from me. We start this afternoon, and then you come with us. Tonight. Yes?" How could I refuse that offer?

The music was pulsing throughout the club; some sexy pop beat. The lyrics were Russian, and flowing too fast for me to understand. Didn't matter. I could understand the beat.

The club, __, is packed tight. The place is done in deep burgundies, purples, and dark blues. Oh, and of course black. It seems to be going for an upscale, brothel look. The dance floor is massive, and taking up the mid-right side of the lower level. A few couples look like they are fornicating on the floor already, so it's not much different from American clubs in that sense. I could smell the hormones raging from the second I stepped out of the car, but now that scent is mixed with a myriad of others. Sweat, expensive perfume, even more expensive cologne, vodka, and a smattering of drugs wafting from the balconies above. Nik and Sergei (Viktor's nephew) lead us off to the left, where the bar takes up practically the entire wall. The countertop is sleek and black, reflecting the dim lights from the dance floor.

One of the bartenders leans in towards Nik, taking his order. He looks at me, gesturing, asking if I want something. A brief shake of the head, and he's turned back to the bartender. Only, the bartender is looking at me. I can feel his gaze drag up my body, starting from my ass, and ending with my lips. I resist the urge to tug on my silk dress, and instead make sure to stare him down. A low growl trickles from Nik's lips, too low for the humans. I walk up behind Nik, pressing my breasts against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"_Behave_," I whisper. He nods, a suggestive smile tugging at his lips. Uh oh. Didn't mean to send off this signal to him. I pull back, and reclaim those two steps that put my shoulder to shoulder with Sergei again. Instead of waiting, Sergei grasps my hand in his and leads us to the back of the club, and we are already heading up the circular stairs when Nik catches up, some heavy-smelling mixture in the glass he holds. We pass over the second flood, filled with the wannabes and desperate. I look into the eyes of some of the men, and I can just tell they are looking for someone younger than me. A lot younger. Fuck that, not my problem. I tighten my hand on Sergei, and Nik claims my left hand in his own. The song switches over, barely noticeable. Finally we reach the third floor, with yet another bouncer at the entrance to the level. He's a big looking brute, all dark and brooding. He's got a tan, tight body, covered with a designer suit and the promise of violence. Must get paid well. Wonder what he has to do, to earn a check that big. Wonder if I want to know. Probably not.

The bouncer/guard looks over Nik and peels back the heavy black and wine colored curtain separating us from the floor. So this is where the deals take place.

The third level is thin, only taking up the left side of the club, right above the bar. It's got a fantastic view of the dance floor, but it's too far up, too shrouded by darkness for anyone to see the tables that line either side of the floor. Exclusivity, privacy.

We keep walking, me following the guys, until we reach the large wooden table the spans the end of the level. There are people sitting there already.

Two women, I'd gauge them at twenty five years a piece. The one to the right of me is squished on the edge of the black booth seat up against the wall, the farthest from the balcony. She's got a low, sheer red top on. Some cute lace thing that costs more per square inch than any cloth you'll find at Bendel's back home. Her long black hair is straight, resting just above her breasts. Which, let me tell you, aren't god given. Her red mouth is turned up in a sneer when she sees me.

The second woman is two people away from the other and slightly apart from the group. She peers over the balcony, with this odd look in her eyes. Empty. I know that look. Her hair is shorter than the other woman's, a soft brown that smells of dye still. Her chin length bob covers a fresh wound, I can smell it. Did something tear at her face?

"Nikolai!" A voice booms from the man closest to Empty Eyes. He has a dark complexion, not a tan, just genetics. With equally dark eyes, hair, and a slight shadow of beard over his face, he looks intimidating. Not just the sheer size of him, 'cause you can tell he's spent a lot of time in the weight room, but also the look in his eyes. Hungry. Did he do that to the girl's face? If I didn't know better, I might have been a bit scared by him. But I did know better. So instead of focusing on the man that was grinning at Nik, I-like Sergei- was focusing on the man to the right of him. Oh, excuse me, the werewolf.

"Nikolai! I'm glad you could make it!" Of course, beard-man said this in Russian. But let me save time, and just translate. "Good time tonight," then he reached out to touch Empty Eye's breast. Whether this bothered her, I can't tell. She didn't move. He then started speaking in faster Russian, before he was inturupted mid-sentence.

"Who's your friend?" This was from the werewolf. Sergei stood up a bit taller, showing off all of that 6'4".

"She's a friend." Nik answered, voice smooth as butter. He glanced at the women, which I guess meant he wanted to be able to talk openly. The werewolf then said something, probably rude, because I had never heard it before, but it got the girl's to slink away from the secluded table. The girl of the red lips tried to shove my shoulder as she left, but I moved to my left and she missed. Instead, it just looked like she moved jerkily. Good for her.

"Now, we may speak openly." Wolf said.

"And the sorcerer?" Nik nodded at beard-man.

"We may speak openly. Pavel and I have an understanding," he laughed and it sent a shiver down my spine, " and the understanding is if he tells his stories I break his legs. And then I break his mother's legs. We have understanding."

"Alright. This is the newest member of the Pack." Wolf raised his eyebrows, then I saw his nostrils flare. A look of surprise fell across his face like a dark shadow.

"I thought I was confused by your scent, and the drugs. So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" Nik asked.

"That an American bitch has joined you." Bitch? Me? Should I be offended? I let it slide. This time. "I though truly it must be rumor, we have no women here. Maybe American malfunction?" He laughed again, this time giving me a long once-over. Unlike the bartender, though, he wasn't looking at my breasts. Or, mostly he wasn't. Instead, he appeared to be sizing me up, figuring me out. The look was very wolf, and had very little to do with being a man. "So, little girl, you American?" The last was in English. He looked at me, and Nik followed the gaze. Sergei didn't, he was doing his job, watching the club.

"I was." I answer in Russian, this surprises him. I don't think he understood before, when he was speaking, that I could understand him.

"Was? American no more?"

"My mother's family was Russian."

"Is that why you understand me? Hmm." I didn't correct him, Elena didn't speak Russian, "Who bit you? He bring you here?" I think he meant the Russian Pack, not the club.

"I wasn't bitten." If he wasn't surprised before, he sure as hell was now.

"Really?" He tried to be calm, but I could smell his excitement. He gazed at me again, probably trying to figure out what bloodline I was. "Have I heard of your father?"

"You've heard of both her parents, Mikky." This was from Nik; I would never have volunteered it. Understanding passed through his eyes, I could see him working through it.

"You're a Danvers."

"She's a part of my family now." Finally, Sergei spoke up. I think his deep bass tone of authority startled everyone.

"But, why not flaunt your lineage, girl? I have never heard of such a pairing, it was a thing of legend. I never would have guessed children came of it. And to be the daughter of Clayton Danvers- we heard of him here, you know. His brutality would have earned him a place here, if he had tried for it. Your mother, I never heard much of her. Just rumors that there was a woman _ulfhednar_." My discomfort must have been radiating from me in waves, because Sergei spoke again.

"We answered your question. The girl is blood of our blood now. If you have problem, you speak to Viktor himself." He was getting agitated at the smaller man. We had all forgotten the Sorceror, and he spoke up now.

"Mikky, we do not wish to agitate the man. I will answer what you came here to know. Yes, the shipment came in. No, I don't know why it took so long. When we have more information, we will make call." Shipment? I'm guessing he would have said more if I wasn't here. Maybe I was wrong, but I don't think the sorceror liked me.

"Alright, I will tell Viktor. Thank you for your time." Nik was the one to smile, and start to steer us towards the curtain again.

"The girl doesn't want to dance?" Mikky called to us. I think Nik would hve said something diplomatic, but I put my foot in my mouth first.

Without turning, I called, "The _girl_ wants to dance. Just not with you." We kept walking,at a faster pace this time. I could smell the rage from that back table, even as I heard the girls' return, and the smell of lust.


End file.
